Monongahela Kiss


Pittsburgh stood gigantically radiant
as a hunk of romantic rock candy,
a crystal mosaic of polychromatic
towers housing the higher order
of comprehension and justification
seeming so undeniable but foreign
standing on the Monongahela shore
as you looked into my eyes with
the goodness of a neat little cardinal
expecting to meet my lips as we drifted --
drifted down the Monongahela --
well I would kiss your lifeless
lips that always felt like
soft inner tubes -- again I would
kiss you but for the last time if
I could not say "I love you."
This would be the test of my
devotion -- a test which I knew
in all likelihood came with
a foregone conclusion -- but
a test is still a test. I would suffer
this kiss for your sake and mine.
Your face loomed nearer,
and your adoring bird like
eyes pleaded for a favorable
verdict. Words germinated
in a stiff clay and groped for
the sun light of articulation
when I felt the rubber death of
inner tubes. A kiss is still
a kiss but I uttered only the
deafening silence as a black
hole slowly crushed the spinning
universe. You could not be
the one, my little broken bird.
Pittsburgh gleamed like rock candy
reflecting the glorious sunset
with such sweet comprehension.


pjk



Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 706 times
Written on 2008-10-22 at 22:03

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Rob Graber
Such pathetic inevitability. Being the dumper beats being the dumpee, but it's sometimes pretty bad too... Or have I missed the boat here?
2008-10-22